


Drunken Comfort

by afteriwake



Series: tomorrow you'll still be beautiful [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comforting Sherlock Holmes, Crying Molly Hooper, Drunk Molly Hooper, Drunk Sherlock Holmes, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, First Kiss, Forehead Kisses, POV Molly Hooper, Sad Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, complaints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 18:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16645862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: After a round of heavy drinking at her flat, Sherlock and Molly stumble upstairs and then she remembers why they were drinking in the first place, only for Sherlock to confess he finds her beautiful.





	Drunken Comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dreamin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/gifts).



> My 1,750th fic on AO3! Yay! I was asked to write a Sherlolly fic by **Dreamin** and I decided to use a prompt I have for a series that she sent me for a ship I'd already answered it for as a Sherlolly prompt, who I hadn't written yet. Enjoy!

They stumbled up the stairs to her bedroom. She had known Sherlock was a lightweight, but dear Lord, he was _such_ a lightweight. It had all been a jumble, this whole evening, but they were celebrating...something. And there had been whiskey, not wine, which explained why she was at least one sheet to the wind. But maybe the celebrating had been more? More like forgetting?

It all just seemed so fuzzy.

“I’m as drunk as you are. I shouldn’t be taking care of you,” she said, though she was amused. Sort of. She was in a state of giving no shites about anything and just wanting to collapse into a nice, warm bed. With or without Sherlock, didn’t really matter. Bed, a sip of water to take something to ward off the hangover that was incipient in the morning, sleep...wait, that didn’t seem like the right order.

“I’ll take care of you next time,” he said, and showed it by pulling some of his weight off of her that he’d been sharing by leaning into her. He was taller! Bigger! Should have let _her_ lean into _him_. 

But finally, _finally_ they made it to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. Not one on each side, no; both of them were on her side and their heads were facing his usual side and it wasn’t a proper way to be on the bed because their legs were hanging off but she didn’t care, they were on the bed and maybe for a moment the room would stop spinning.

But then he was gathering her in his arms and she was snuggling into him, smile on her face, mouth near his neck ( _he really does have such a lovely neck, and he smells so nice...nice and crisp and manly, not like Tom... **oh**_ ) and with that thought she remembered. They were celebrating a lot of things but it ended up being the fact her engagement was over, his had never happened, and they were alone, the both of them.

Alone together.

For better or worse.

She felt a tear blink on her eyelashes and he must have felt the wetness on his neck because he was shushing her, running his fingers through her hair to comfort, kissing her forehead and her hair and she just curled into him. “I’m going to die alone, an ugly hag, a crazy cat woman in a village where no one knows me as anything other than the crazy cat lady or village witch,” she said, choking back sobs.

“No you won’t,” he said, his lips just over the skin on her forehead. “You’re beautiful. You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Caring. Loving. Better than he deserved. Better than I deserve. But you’ll find someone.”

“Not beautiful,” she said with a hiccuped sob.

“Are so,” he said, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“You're drunk!” she barked out in a harsh laugh.

“Yes, I'm drunk. And you're beautiful. And tomorrow morning I'll be sober...but you'll still be beautiful.” He tilted her head up to look at him. “You’ll always be beautiful.”

She gave him a small smile as he brushed her tears away, and then she kissed him softly on the lips. It seemed to surprise him but after a moment’s hesitation, he kissed her back, just as gently, as though he meant it. Meant the words, meant the kiss...meant it all.

“Tomorrow?” he murmured when he pulled away. “We can start?”

“Start what?” she asked, dazed for a moment.

“Us,” he said, and she was sure he was going to fall asleep almost any moment. She nodded against his face and he held her so they were pressed closely together, the two of them forming a ball of limbs over the bed and chests held together by his arms, and she knew even if she didn’t remember their first kiss tomorrow, she’d know he cared. She’d know it in her bones.


End file.
